I turn my attention back to my uncle, who’s waiting for my response. I give a nod. “Sounds like a plan.”
We shake hands, making our plan official. There’s only one person I can think to share the news with.
I close Oliver’s door behind me and saunter to the office across from my desk.
“Hey,” I say to catch his attention.
Declan peers up at me and his smile says it all. Bright, brilliant, the kind of smile that cannot be contained. The dimples that distract me, the eyes that communicate safety. Of all the things I thought I would reclaim with this job, this adventure on the other side of the country, it was my confidence, my independence, my trust in my body and my instincts. I wanted to own an identity outside of running and my need to walk away from it. I never expected this. These emotions. This man. Once, he infuriated and exasperated me; now he has me connecting with my inner goddess.
“Hey,” Declan responds.
I saw him last this morning when he left my bed early for a training ride. It’s only been a few hours, but it feels too long. I lock my thoughts of last night away so I can focus. “I have some news,” I share, unsure if he already knows.
“You said yes?” Declan asks, and I’m guessing he and Oliver already discussed the potential new role.
I nod. I want to walk over and sit on his lap and hug him. I want to kiss him, I’m so happy. But I do neither of these things, because I am a professional, dammit.
Declan’s computer chimes. He glances over at the notification and grimaces. “Oliver already sent an email to Shauna with us on copy saying we need to meet with her first thing.”
“About the job? Oliver said I’d be transitioning for half a year or more.”
Declan raises his eyebrows as if to say,Not about that.
I let out a soft laugh. Clearly, Oliver wants us to disclose our relationship to HR, the relationship we thought we were keeping under wraps. No secrets among spies, I suppose. Turns out we don’t actually have a non-fraternization policy here; Celine was just trying to keep me away from her crush. “Is this his way of asking your intentions?” I joke with Declan.
He stands and grabs his travel mug. “Yeah, I guess,” he says as he passes closer to me.
I’m still in the doorway, blocking his way. “And what are your intentions? Are they honorable?” I bite my lips because I know I’m playfully skirting the line we’ve drawn.
“Mostly,” Declan says with a wink as he pinches my hip.
51
DECLAN
“Alright, let’s get to it,” I mutter after I take a sip of fresh hot coffee. The caffeine is necessary for this morning’s task.
Charlie groans and we head over to Ian’s office. It’s remained locked for two weeks now. Shauna sent the discreet “Ian Turner is no longer with the company” email. Void of details.
The rumor mill did its thing. Everyone thinks Ian was sabotaging our athlete-tracking app to force Oliver to sign with a new platform partner, that Ian would get a kickback. Some theories said he needed the money for gambling debts and that is somehow related to his arrest. A few people are theorizing that Ian tried to kill Oliver to get the CEO job. Or something like that. Gossip is always oddly specific and yet very vague. People make up their own stories and it never gets close to the messy truth.
Everyone on Ian’s team has been fully screened. Several have been put on standard duties for the time being so we can assess if they’re potentially leaking any information.
Ian is already out on bail. He’s been charged with trespassing and attempted murder with a deadly weapon. Since these are his “first offenses” and he has friends in high places connected to the Order, he will likely get a slap on the wrist and probation. Charlie has a restraining order, but paper doesn’t do much to stop bullets. We expect he’ll flee to join X.C. whenever his trial concludes. Oliver said Ian’s lawyer will likely have him sign a plea deal for lesser charges to get the whole thing over with.
In the meantime, FIRE is stuck with unraveling what he left behind. We did a full technology reset – again – and I’m confident we left no backdoor code for him to infiltrate.
His office is another story.
Charlie approaches Ian’s workbench. “What a mess,” she mumbles.
I agree. It’s chaotic. Though I once thought it was a sign of his ordered brain, his ability to track everything without filing it.
Charlie picks up one of the papers. I should get busy packing up his hard drives, organizing the files into normal FIRE business and potentially sensitive documents about our missions. Instead, I walk up behind Charlie. I place my hands on the workbench, pressing our bodies together, and delight in the pleasant “hmm” she releases.
After checking that no one is walking by, I bury my nose in her hair. The smell of her fruity perfume fills my nose. It is a distinctly Charlie aroma, a smell that has now found its way into the fibers of my pillows. Even on the nights she hasn’t stayed over, her scent lingers. My world smells like Charlie now and I love it.I love her.
I move my head so I can plant a kiss on her neck.
